Not a Slut
by anxioussquirrel
Summary: College AU inspired by Artie's dream in "Glee, Actually". A story of Kurt who never had Glee or friends, and ended up homeschooled and alone, and of Blaine who didn't meet a beautiful stranger on Dalton's staircase, but a year later met Sebastian instead. Now, Kurt is just starting at NYADA, where he meets the resident gay Casanova, Blaine Anderson.
1. Chapter 1

**NOT A SLUT**

**1.**

Blaine Anderson entered the NYADA ballroom fashionably late, pushing the double doors open and stepping into the crowded room like he owned it. From the reactions of the people closest to the entrance, he just as well might.

There were smiles and stares around him from the moment he entered the room. People were coming up to talk to him, to exchange insubstantial chitchat about the summer and this year's classes – anything to be seen in his company, part of the popular crowd. Of course, there were the usual glares directed his way, too – disgruntled one-time lovers, mostly. Oh well, Blaine couldn't help that. He was always very clear about the fact that he didn't do relationships. And yet, time and again there were people who hoped they would be the one to change that.

It was their problem, not his.

He made his way around the large room, chatting with people while keeping his eye out for the fresh meat. It was the traditional September mixer at NYADA, after all, the perfect place to see what eye candy was admitted this year. Everyone was here. And yes, last year Blaine himself had been among the shy freshmen looking around with wide eyes. Which only showed how much could change within a year. He much preferred this year's position.

He only hoped there were some interesting new guys here – or at least _hot _ones, if interesting was too much to wish for. After the summer spent back home in Ohio, he could really use some good sex, STAT. There had been Sebastian, of course, and they'd hooked up twice for old times' sake, but Bastian had gone back to France almost a month ago. Ever since then, Blaine's sex life had been non-existent, and that was unacceptable.

He'd been sure coming back to New York would solve the problem, but it looked like all of his semi-regular hook-ups – those drama-free, no-strings-attached kind of guys he liked best – had either graduated or were in relationships all of a sudden. Blaine had gone through pretty much all of the attractive gay and bi-curious guys at school last year, and for one reason or another, he didn't feel like a repeat performance with any of them. He was starting to feel suffocated here. If he didn't find anyone interesting among the new students tonight, he might just have to go to a gay bar after all, despite all the hassle it required. He was getting _that _desperate.

There was no alcohol allowed at the dance, so it was with a cup of Coke in his hand that Blaine made his rounds, the familiar thrill of attention buzzing in his blood. He'd missed it.

The new faces he saw as he mingled were not a promising bunch. Most of the freshmen this semester were girls, and Blaine didn't have a single bisexual bone in his body, so that didn't help. The few new boys he saw were either completely not his type, or hopelessly straight by the looks of it. Not that he'd never seduced a seemingly straight guy, but he wasn't up for a lengthy game tonight. He needed to get laid, simple as that.

Blaine was almost out of hope when he saw him, standing alone out to the side, a vision in skin-tight pants stretched over miles of long legs. He was gorgeous – tall and graceful, with an elfin face but strong jaw, chestnut hair perfectly styled. The mixer was a semi-formal dress occasion, and the guy made simple black pants and a dress shirt with gray waistcoat look like he'd just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Or maybe it was the way he accessorized with a bowtie and white Doc Martens. Either way, he looked stunning.

That was it. Exactly what Blaine needed. He put aside his cup, checked if the sleeves of his black button-up were rolled up evenly (of course they were) and popped open the top button. The boy would be his before the night was over.

* * *

"Whoa." Blaine didn't even have to play it up too much. The guy really was breathtaking, even more so from up close. "Please tell me you're a model."

"Excuse me?" Gorgeous Freshman looked at him startled, his eyes wide and blue. Or grey. Green, maybe? It was hard to say in the muted light.

"You definitely look like one," Blaine continued, letting himself check the boy out subtly. "So which designer do you work for?"

"Oh, no. I'm not a model." Mouthwatering Guy seemed amused by the concept.

"That's a shame. Such a gorgeous man should be seen and admired by the crowds." Blaine extended his hand. "I'm sorry. Blaine Anderson. Sophomore."

The boy took it lightly. "Kurt Hummel. I'm new here."

Blaine grinned. "Oh, I know. I would have _definitely _noticed you before if you weren't."

The boy just looked down and even in the dimmed light of the ballroom Blaine could see he was blushing. Honest to god _blushing_. Adorable.

"So how do you like it at NYADA so far?" Blaine asked.

Kurt looked up with a broad smile, his eyes lighting up. "Oh, I love it! Except for maybe–" He bit his lip. Delectable.

"What?" Blaine prompted, pulling his eyes away with difficulty.

"The dance class."

Blaine nodded with understanding. "Ah, Cassandra. The horror of the freshmen." Well, not his. He'd been Cassie's favorite since day one.

"Just freshmen?" Kurt asked hopefully.

"She gets nicer the longer you take her class," Blaine assured him. "And the better you get."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "Then I guess I will suffer until I graduate."

"Oh come on, you can't be that bad." Blaine chuckled. The song was changing, something slow and sweet coming on, and Blaine seized the opportunity. He grinned and took Kurt's hand. "In fact, why don't you show me?"

He pulled Kurt to the large circular dance floor and the boy went easily, pliant and stunned-looking. Blaine gathered him close, sliding his arms around Kurt's trim waist. Kurt seemed frozen for a moment, stiff in his embrace. Then his hands were on Blaine's shoulders, so light they were barely there. His spine was ramrod straight as he followed Blaine's lead and began to sway to the music.

It took a moment, but Blaine could feel him relax bit by bit, settling into his body and the rhythm of the song. He pulled him a little closer, their chests touching, and Kurt finally slid his arms around his neck.

"From what I can tell, you're not a bad dancer at all," Blaine murmured into his ear.

Kurt smiled, the blush back on his cheeks. "This isn't exactly the kind of dancing Miss July requires though, is it? Unless you're on a different curriculum."

"Well no, but I can already tell you're graceful on your feet – not that I ever doubted it from the moment I saw you. I bet you're flexible, too." He winked, coming on a little stronger now. Kurt burst out a short laugh.

"Well I do like my yoga," he said, peeking up at him bashfully under dark eyelashes.

Oh, this was going to be delightful.

* * *

They were sitting at a table ten minutes later, drinking punch – NYADA's signature recipe with edible glitter but no alcohol – when Rachel Berry flew by their table and then backtracked, staring between them.

"Oh my god, no," she said firmly, and Blaine bristled.

"Go away."

She wasn't looking at him, though. She was facing Kurt, a dramatically concerned frown on her face.

"Oh no, Kurt, please don't. Why are you talking to NYADA's resident gay slut? He'll just seduce you and then leave you. This is not what you want, honey," she said, sickly sweet. Kurt gave Blaine a surprised, intrigued look, but then turned back to her.

"We're just talking. You told me I need to make friends, remember?"

"Well yes, but not with _him_," she said with such a dose of distaste that Blaine couldn't resist.

He smirked at her.

"Oh, this is not what you said last year, when you were trying to convince me what a perfect couple we'd make. What was it? Keeping with each other vocally and having vaguely Eurasian children?"

She colored and huffed before turning her back to him completely. "Kurt, really–"

"I'll be fine, Rachel," Kurt said calmly. "I'm not a baby. Go have fun."

Rachel's boyfriend appeared at her side to steal her away and she went at last, still casting worried glances over her shoulder until they were gone in the crowd.

"So you know Rachel Berry," Blaine said, surprised. The school's top diva didn't usually grace new students with her precious attention.

"We went to the same high school. Had some classes together." Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes. "I thought college would change her but nope, not one bit."

Blaine frowned, confused. "Wait, you had classes together? But she's a junior. She's older than me."

"So am I." Kurt shrugged. "I'm twenty. I lost a year in high school, for personal reasons, and then I took a year off to do community theater full time. And now I'm here."

"Wow. May I ask–?"

Kurt shook his head, his smile fading. "Maybe some other time. Now, tell me about you. Where are you from?"

So Blaine told him – about Dalton and leading the Warblers for three years straight, about winning Glee competitions and falling in love with New York during Nationals his sophomore year. About his lifelong dream of being a performer and his bold NYADA audition choice that dazzled Carmen Tibideaux when everyone said it would appall her. About being the first freshman in a decade to be invited to perform at the Winter Showcase last year, and coming in a close second to Rachel Berry.

And then he realized that he'd been talking about himself for a really long time now. The party was in full swing around them, the smuggled in alcohol bringing out the louder, bolder sides in people.

"Whoa. Sorry, I guess I took a trip down the memory lane there," Blaine said, slightly flustered. At least Kurt didn't look bored. "Do you want to get out of here, go somewhere more private? It's getting kind of hot."

"Sure." Kurt stood up and Blaine was suddenly reminded why he started to talk to him in the first place. The way those pants were hugging his ass was criminal.

"So, your place or mine?" he asked as they made their way to the door, his hand resting lightly on Kurt's back.

Kurt stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. "Oh. I thought– Um. No. Sorry Blaine, but I'm not– Thank you, but no." He was blushing hard, and Blaine stroked his fingers down one pink cheek.

"Am I not your type?" he asked softly.

Kurt shook his head. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

"It's just…" Kurt hesitated, but then blurted out quickly, so quietly Blaine wouldn't hear him if he wasn't so close. "I've never even been kissed."

Okay, he must have misunderstood. He stared at Kurt dumbstruck – this stunning boy, man really, at twenty, and no one had ever– Nothing? Not even a kiss? How was that possible?

Kurt was watching him, clearly waiting for some sort of reaction. His face fell as the silence prolonged, but it was just a glimpse. A moment later, Kurt's chin was up and his smile in place, plastered there with barely visible effort. "I'll just go to my dorm. Goodnight, Blaine. Thank you for the dance."

And then he was gone, leaving Blaine with his mouth open in the middle of the ballroom.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

Kurt walked the short distance to his dorm with his face on fire.

He'd just been propositioned, hadn't he? Really, truly, _sex_-propositioned. It wasn't a "where should we watch a movie" kind of question, was it?

He'd known it might happen one day. If he was being honest, he'd kind of hoped it would, once he finally escaped Ohio – that some time down the road, somewhere in New York he would meet a man who would want to date him, and kiss him, and more. Kurt had spent so much time thinking about it, these last few years when loneliness bit harder every day and his body kept reminding him, with increasing urgency, that it had needs that were not being met. But now that it had actually happened, he didn't feel ready at all. After only three weeks in New York, he wasn't even used to the way his straight roommate, Justin, changed in front of him, completely unfazed.

And now, for the first time in his life, he met a guy who seemed interested in him. And what a guy! Kurt was pretty certain there was no one as attractive as Blaine in that ballroom, and he'd been watching for an hour – he had really allowed himself to watch, like he'd never dared before. There had been several good-looking boys in the crowd, and at least two of them had seemed very, very gay.

But once Blaine came in, everyone else immediately paled in comparison.

The dark curls that Kurt could tell were masterfully styled to look that free and tousled. The sparkling honey-brown eyes. The easy smile, so joyful that Kurt had felt warm and tingly just from having it directed at him. And that was before they even started talking.

Blaine was a stunning, interesting man – a man who, without a doubt, knew what to do with those full red lips and those beautifully expressive hands.

Obviously, Kurt had to reject him.

He couldn't have just agreed to jump right into a stranger's bed after an hour of conversation, no matter how attractive the stranger or how much Kurt's body reacted to the prospect, touch-starved as it was. Blaine clearly wasn't interested in asking him out on a date. And Kurt Hummel hadn't come to New York to hook up with the first willing man he met.

But as he went through his evening routine in his dorm's shared bathroom, and then lay in bed, Kurt couldn't get Blaine out of his head. What if he hadn't said no? Would he be in Blaine's bed now instead of his own? What would that be like?

Justin wasn't back from the dance yet, and Kurt decided to take his chances. Breath quickening with excitement, he slid his hand up under his sleep shirt and closed his eyes, fantasy unfolding.

They would start kissing as soon as they were alone behind closed door somewhere. Blaine's lips would be warm and soft against his, and he would still taste sweet like the punch they'd drunk. Heat twisted deliciously in Kurt's belly at the thought of sliding the tip of his tongue across Blaine's lower lip to catch that tiny speck of glitter that had been stealing Kurt's attention earlier. Blaine would hopefully take it as an invitation to deepen the kiss, dive in, and Kurt would be more than happy to allow it and reciprocate.

He brushed his fingertips over his lips, gasping as his other hand found a nipple.

In his fantasy, they still haven't moved far from the front door, he realized. Blaine had him against the wall, his hands wandering up under Kurt's shirt as he kissed him hungrily, and Kurt had never suspected it would be such a turn on for him – being pressed between the cold wall and warm firm flesh, enveloped by the subtle scent of the cologne Blaine had been wearing when they had danced.

Fantasy Blaine pressed his hard, muscled thigh between Kurt's legs, and up on his bed, Kurt moaned as his hips strained up, his cock seeking friction. By the time he pushed his pajama pants down and retrieved a small bottle of lubricant from between his headboard and mattress, the fantasy had taken a turn for the bolder.

They were on the bed now, making out horizontally in nothing but their underwear. Blaine's hair looked mussed, his lips kissed red, and Kurt knew that it was just his imagination making it so, but he could see the perfect definition of the muscles in Blaine's arms and stomach, the warm tan color of his skin, the smooth expanse of his chest. He could tell Blaine was turned on, desperate even, so he lost no time bringing his hand down where he really wanted it, against the black cotton of Blaine's briefs where he was hard and straining. But before he could slide the briefs down, his imagination made a wild flip and suddenly he was on his back, pressed into the bed, Blaine's gravelly voice whispering into Kurt's ear, _No, let me touch you, please._

And Kurt wanted to protest, to say that he'd waited so long to actually touch a… a _cock_ – of course he wouldn't say _penis_, or god forbid a _member_ or something equally ridiculous – that he wanted to touch and taste, to get Blaine off and see what his face looked like when he was taken apart with pleasure. He wanted to know if Blaine was loud, if he would moan Kurt's name when he came. He wanted to do so much, but the desperate need to be touched grew stronger by the second and then all words left him when Blaine's hand gripped him, warm and slick with lube somehow, skin on skin even though he'd just been wearing underwear. Then Blaine was stroking him, tight and fast and perfect, and everything became a blur except for those eyes, golden and smiling, watching Kurt as he arched and whispered his name and came all over–

His own hand.

Kurt lay there, gasping for air, his whole body tingling with the force of his orgasm.

Well, wow.

He fell asleep thinking about Blaine, wondering. What if. _What if_…

* * *

The morning brought back reality.

As much as he'd enjoyed his little fantasy the night before, Kurt was glad he hadn't thrown all reason to the wind and gone home with Blaine. No matter how good it might have been, he would have definitely freaked out in the light of day, and he didn't want to remember his first time as "that night I made an impulsive hookup decision and then had to quit NYADA and leave New York to avoid the guy forever."

Blaine was hard to forget, though, especially since he appeared to be one of the most popular students at NYADA, as Kurt soon learned. People talked about him and gravitated towards him whenever he was around, and he was apparently a leader of a great many extracurricular activities at the school, including a goofy, yet generally adored acapella boy band, named Blaine's Birdies.

And he was clearly able to be in several places at the same time. Wherever Kurt went in the next few weeks at school, there he was – a glimpse of his curls in the cafeteria; his compact, graceful form seen through the window during a lecture; someone mentioning him in passing; his voice floating through an open classroom door. Kurt was starting to suspect he might have developed selective Blaine-radar because how could everything suddenly revolve around one guy?

Or maybe it was a crush. Again. Except now he was in New York and the object of his affection was gay and somewhat interested, if only in the sex. That was definitely progress.

Either way, revisiting his little fantasy scene became Kurt's favorite bedtime activity. He tried to feel bad at first, but honestly, what could it hurt? After all he'd heard about Blaine's reputation – and he was apparently a veritable Casanova, if rumors were to be believed – Kurt was sure he wouldn't mind if he knew. He might even take it as a compliment. The truth was, with nothing more than a slowly fading memory of one dance and some talking, Blaine had single-handedly improved Kurt's sex life by about 300%.

And then one day Kurt literally fell into Blaine's arms.

He was hurrying to Miss July's class, already late and cutting a corner too fast, when he stumbled over someone's bag left carelessly on the floor. He would have fallen if not for a pair of well-muscled arms that caught him around the middle and steadied him as he regained his balance.

"Whoa, careful."

The voice registered before Kurt even looked up, and there really was no time to steel himself before he was looking into Blaine's golden eyes. Up close, they had green speckles around the irises. Kurt found it impossible to look away.

"Hi, Kurt. Everything alright?" Blaine smiled at him and oh, those lips were even more sumptuous than he remembered them, the smile even warmer.

"Yes. Sure. I'm fine. Thank you."

He really should go or Miss July would invent some special kind of torture just for him. But he just realized his hands were on Blaine's biceps that filled the sleeves of his red polo shirt in the most delicious way and – oh, that was just embarrassing, the way Kurt's breath was quickening already, tendrils of arousal growing through his body just from this proximity, the subtle scent of Blaine's cologne. Which, he admitted, must have had something to do with the way he'd let himself imagine this particular scent surrounding him with Blaine above him, against him, so close with nothing between them and–

With a tiny gasp, Kurt pulled away before Blaine could notice the effect he was having on him. He cleared his throat and straightened the strap of his bag on his shoulder.

"Really, thank you," he repeated lamely. "Have a good day."

He was turning to go when Blaine reached out and caught his hand to stop him. "Hey, how about we go get some coffee or–"

"I can't. Dance class," Kurt practically squeaked. Blaine's hand was large and warm, and again, brought back sensations that were only imagined and yet so potent. Kurt slid his hand free. "I have to go. See you around!"

For the second time in less than a month, he was leaving Blaine and running away, Kurt realized. But he couldn't be concerned about it now. He had bigger problems to solve. Like tight dance outfits and lingering effects of Blaine's touch.

* * *

Kurt tried to resist the siren call of his favorite fantasy that night. Justin was fast asleep, and he slept like a log, Kurt knew by now. The circumstances were not a problem. The problem was that things were clearly getting out of hand.

What was he doing?

Ever since meeting Blaine, Kurt hadn't masturbated once without thinking about him, envisioning his body and his actions like it was a custom-made porn movie in his head. And while it was fundamentally harmless, his today's reaction to being this close to Blaine, even in the most innocent situation, was worrying. If it went on like this, he would start getting a boner every time he even _saw_ Blaine, and that would be not only embarrassing, but also not fair to himself. What use was nurturing such a strong attraction to a man Kurt could never have?

But Kurt's body was yearning for release of the tension he'd carried since he'd stepped out of Blaine's arms that morning, and so, with a sigh, he allowed himself one last indulgence. Sliding his hand under the waistband of his pajama pants, Kurt recalled the feeling of Blaine's hand grasping his, large and warm, and closed his eyes.

What if he _could_ have Blaine, even just for a bit?

As his hand worked slowly and expertly, well practiced after the last two years since his hormones caught up with his age at last, Kurt didn't focus on any particular image. The familiar glimpses ran through his head – kisses and touches and the naked body he'd never actually seen – but his mind meandered that night.

Would it be that bad if he'd said yes, back after the gala? Having his first experience like that – with a nice, handsome, charismatic guy who affected Kurt like no one had before and reportedly knew perfectly well how to please a man? Yes, it could only be one time, no relationship could come out of it, but was that really such a problem?

Hand quickening its jerky motions, Kurt couldn't believe how close he was already. Allowing himself the thought of really, truly getting what he'd only fantasized about so far was like flipping a switch from _great_ to _mind-bogglingly intense_, and before he knew it, he was coming, barely managing to muffle the moan of Blaine's name against his forearm.

A few minutes later, as he opened his eyes and reached for a tissue, the idea still felt tantalizing.

* * *

"This is your urgent need?" Rachel scowled at Kurt across the table. "I skipped my Beautiful Ballet workout to talk to you about _Blaine Anderson_?"

"_And _to have coffee with me in your favorite vegan-friendly coffee shop. You deserve a break and a little pampering now and then, I know how hard you work," Kurt said smoothly. "Coffee's on me. What can I get you?"

By the time he was back with her organic soy latte (not too hot, with one and a half shots of sugar-free caramel syrup and sprinkled with equal amounts cinnamon and dark chocolate), Rachel seemed to be appeased. She beamed at him when he put a piece of vegan green tea cheesecake in front of her.

"Thank you, Kurt! I really shouldn't though, my weight–"

"Your weight is perfectly fine," he said firmly. "One piece of cake won't change that."

"I guess," she murmured, reaching for the fork. She moaned around the first bite.

Kurt smiled and sipped his coffee, waiting.

"Okay, so what's this about?" Rachel asked a moment later, licking off the milk foam from her upper lip. "Why are you interested in this guy? Did he try to get into your pants already?"

"No," Kurt lied. "We just talked and he seemed really nice. Friendly. But since you seem to hate him so much, I thought I'd ask about him before I become friends with, I don't know, a puppy strangler. Or an illiterate brute, or something even worse. So tell me, what's so terrible about him?"

"Well, he does sleep around an awful lot, the whole school knows that."

Kurt frowned. "So did Puckerman back at McKinley and you never held it against him. So what makes Blaine so bad?"

Rachel sighed. "Okay, maybe he's not _bad _bad. I mean, it's not like he pretends it's anything but casual, from what I know. Guys rarely hold it against him. They tend to boast about sleeping with him, actually."

"Right," Kurt said, still confused.

"And he _is _nice," Rachel said. "Charming, really, as you might have noticed. And extremely easy on the eyes, I have to admit. Quite talented, too," she added begrudgingly, then paused and busied herself with her cheesecake.

"Okay, then I don't understand–" And then he did. "_Oh_. Talented you say? As talented as you, perhaps?" A slow grin spread over Kurt's face. _Of course_.

Rachel scowled at him. "Well not _that _talented. I did beat him at the Winter Showcase."

"But it was a close call, I heard. Rachel Berry, you are just jealous!" he said in a mildly astonished voice.

"I am not jealous of a sophomore," she huffed, but the way she failed to meet his eyes defied her words.

"Of course you're not," Kurt teased. "So wait, Blaine's big flaw is that he's… too good?"

She just glowered at him for a moment before changing the topic to the classes he was taking.

Walking out of the café an hour later, Kurt already knew. He was going to find Blaine Anderson and talk to him. For starters.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Blaine wasn't there to watch Kurt. Not at all. He just had a free period and had wandered by Cassie's classroom because he had nothing better to do. And if she was happy to invite him in to show the freshmen what the tango should really look like… well, it was just a coincidence.

But since he was there anyway, he could just as well enjoy the view of Kurt's stunning body in the well-fitted black dance clothes – the pert swell of his ass, the taut lines of his toned, bare arms. He was glad to see that he'd been right: Kurt really was naturally graceful on his feet. Once he learned to fully let go of the inhibitions that still held him back, and owned the quiet strength in his muscles, he would do great.

Blaine stayed back after the class ended, watching the students trickle out of the classroom, sweaty and exhausted. Most of them were a mess after the strenuous class, yet Kurt somehow managed to look delicious with his face flushed from exertion and his hair in disarray. Blaine would be lying if he claimed the view didn't give him sex thoughts. But Kurt had clearly shown he wasn't interested, and Blaine was not one to push. Besides, his needs had been expertly satisfied on a semi-regular basis lately, thanks to a feisty fitness instructor he'd met at a bar.

Still, there was just something in Kurt that held Blaine's interest and pulled his attention. He wanted to get closer and figure out what it was.

"You're doing good," he said from the doorway when Kurt finally got his bag and started towards the door, one of the last to leave. "Cassie isn't even throwing sarcasm at you. Soon she'll stop picking on you altogether. Just don't let her know you're friends with Berry."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Why's that?" He paused in front of Blaine. At least this time he wasn't fleeing. Yet.

"Hasn't Rachel told you? Let's just say that they really didn't like each other from the get-go." Blaine glanced around to make sure Cassie wasn't anywhere near, then leaned in to whisper. "I heard rumors that Cassie slept with Berry's ex-boyfriend. Before he was an ex, that is."

Kurt's eyes grew wider with this revelation, but he quickly shook it off. "Thanks for the tip." He smiled, and took a step towards the door. "I have my next class in twenty," he said.

Blaine resigned himself to being left behind again, but Kurt paused before leaving the room. "Do you… would you like to grab a quick coffee with me?"

"Sure," Blaine replied immediately, a delighted grin spreading on his face. "I'd love to."

They didn't talk as they pushed through the crowd towards the cafeteria, and it was only as they were waiting for their beverages – non-fat latte for Kurt, medium drip for Blaine – that Kurt spoke.

"So… do you have your own place?" he asked, blushing adorably, and Blaine was glad he didn't have hot coffee in his hand yet. That was the last question he'd expected.

It was hardly the first time he'd been asked that, though, so he smiled through his surprise. "As a matter of fact, I do. Why?"

"Because–" Kurt took a deep breath, and hesitated a second before saying. "I… I'm in. If you're still interested."

Blaine arched an eyebrow at him, barely able to contain an excited smile. "Of course I am. But I thought you've never even been kissed?"

Kurt shrugged. "Well, you'd have a chance to change that, wouldn't you?" he said and turned away to pick up the coffee.

* * *

When his last class ended that evening, Blaine wriggled out of the karaoke night with the guys and sped home instead, intent on freshening up before Kurt came over. As he stood in the shower, washing off the sweat of an intense stage combat class, he could finally focus on tonight, and the excitement started building until it was tingling under his skin.

It was hardly his first time waiting for a hot guy to arrive at his apartment for a night of carnal pleasures. But tonight was different. Not even because of how hot Kurt was, or how intrigued Blaine felt by him after watching him covertly for the last few weeks. That had happened before.

But Blaine had never been anyone's first.

Sebastian had been with several other boys before he first seduced Blaine into his bed, and while they'd been perceived as a sort of power couple at Dalton, they had never been exclusive in the nearly two years they'd been together. Bastian had taken him out to college parties every other weekend and encouraged him to "mingle", and none of that was innocent. Later, at NYADA, all of the guys Blaine had hooked up with were more or less experienced, though he had been the first male lover for a few boys who'd only slept with girls before. Contrary to some people's beliefs, he never forced anyone out of the closet; they trotted out willingly, with besotted smiles and sparks in their eyes, never to look back.

He'd never been with a virgin, though, and the prospect filled him with something akin to awe. The first time was important; it stayed with a person forever, good or bad. Knowing that Kurt wanted to trust him with his made Blaine shiver.

He'd make sure it was special. Not with candles or rose petals – nothing sentimental like that. But there was a lot that Blaine could show Kurt, sexually, and he was confident he could make it fantastic. He would make sure Kurt had an unforgettable night, something to compare all his future lovers to.

Blaine jumped out of the shower and hurried to get dressed and straighten his tiny studio apartment. When Kurt rang the bell half an hour later, the sheets were already changed, the bedside drawer checked for condoms and lube supply, and Blaine was buzzing with anticipation.

Kurt must have gone home to change, and the sight of him in skin-tight pants and a soft grey henley, clearly worn for comfort and possibly – hopefully – ease of removal, made Blaine's blood run faster. Kurt looked flushed and a little breathless as he came in and started unlacing his boots – the same white Doc Martens he'd been wearing at the gala, laced up to mid-calf. The act of taking them off right at the start felt weirdly intimate: they would be taking off much more than that, tonight, and they both knew it.

"Would you like a beer? Or a wine cooler?" Blaine asked once Kurt entered the single room of the apartment and stopped in the middle, looking around. "I have a few stashed away from the last party."

Kurt shook his head, the intensity in his eyes as he looked at him taking Blaine's breath away.

"No. I'd like to kiss you," he said, his voice coming out lower than Blaine had ever heard it before.

The temptation to just surge forward and capture those innocent pink lips was almost too strong to resist – and Blaine was not used to resisting. But for Kurt's sake, he did. Instead, he stepped closer and stroked his fingertips down Kurt's smooth cheek, and then along the outline of his lips. Kurt drew a shaky breath. Now, in the proper light and seen from up close, his eyes were seawater green, although Blaine could have sworn they looked clear blue when Kurt stumbled into his arms last week. He cupped Kurt's cheek and slowly leaned closer, enjoying the way Kurt's breath quickened and his eyes fluttered closed before their lips met.

The kiss was sweet and slow – for the first few seconds. And then Kurt inhaled sharply and pressed into it, parting his lips, his hands tightening in the fabric of Blaine's shirt. His tongue flickered out and Blaine met it eagerly, pulling Kurt deeper into the kiss. From there, it was all increasingly urgent, tongues exploring and hands gripping for purchase, lips sucking on lips, and soft little sounds from Kurt that weren't quite moans, but were one of the most erotic things Blaine had ever heard.

A long, long while later, when his lips got oversensitive from friction and his hands impatient for more, Blaine wove his fingers through Kurt's hair and tilted his head back for better access. He didn't expect the way Kurt practically melted in his hands, his knees buckling with the first open-mouthed kiss to the soft skin of his neck.

"Bed?" Kurt breathed, his voice deliciously rough and pupils blown.

Blaine walked him backwards the three steps toward the bed and pushed him gently until he was sitting on the edge. Kurt never let go of his shoulders, so Blaine climbed into his lap to resume the kissing. Kurt didn't seem to mind. He just leaned his head to the side to allow more access to his neck.

It was astonishing, Blaine thought long minutes later, how nice it could feel without the hurry that usually accompanied his hookups, at least until the first orgasms. Kurt's hips were stuttering up whenever Blaine did something particularly good with his lips, but he'd tensed when Blaine had rolled into him in response, pressing their cocks together through the fabric of their pants. So Blaine had backed off, forcing himself to slow down, even though his first reaction had been impatience. It was Kurt's first time, he'd reminded himself. It was natural he wanted to take it slower.

So instead, Blaine focused on the pleasure of kissing those delicious lips and mapping out the incredibly sensitive skin of Kurt's neck, and without rushing to the next point of interest, he was able to fully take in what they were doing now. He was stunned how far gone Kurt already was from merely making out – he looked lost in it, his body a live wire that reacted beautifully to Blaine's every touch and kiss. He was clearly trying to give as much as he was getting, but he seemed unmade by the caresses, his kisses lopsided, touches uncontrolled or aborted mid-air because Blaine just found another perfect spot to suck on. Mostly, Kurt just held on for dear life, and reacted.

Oh so beautifully, too. Soft gasps and tightening of his fingers against Blaine's shirt, the roll of his hips that gave Kurt nothing except maybe some friction from his pants. Once, Blaine bit lightly on the spot where Kurt's neck met his shoulder and Kurt bucked up into him, moaning a breathless, "Oh god, Blaine, yes."

It shot right to Blaine's dick.

It was so rare to hear his name during sex. Names didn't really matter much in the type of relations he preferred, and surely not enough to spill out like this, instinctively, without stopping to think and remember. They just changed too often. And yet Kurt, as blissed out as he was, clearly knew and cared who was kissing him.

Of course he did. It was his first time. Still, it was nice to hear it, and the desire to give Kurt an unforgettable experience swelled and filled Blaine to the tips of his impatient fingers.

He pushed Kurt gently to lie down and Kurt went easily, scooting up on the bed so that they could both stretch out comfortably. Blaine made sure not to press him into the bed too much – not yet. He leaned only a fraction of his weight over Kurt's body, and got back to kissing. It was even better now, horizontally, sweet promise hanging in the air. Blaine couldn't wait to show him _everything_.

He slid his hand under Kurt's top to the warm, silky skin. Soft hair tickled his fingers as he smoothed them up to the pebbled nipple. Kurt moaned at the brush of a calloused fingertip, so Blaine did it again, and again to the other nipple, all while pressing wet, hungry kisses to the side of Kurt's neck. He shifted on the bed, sliding his thigh between Kurt's and pressing against the clear bulge in his pants. His mouth was watering already. Taking Kurt's innocent, virgin cock deep into his throat, swallowing it whole until Kurt begged and sobbed and came, was a breathtaking prospect. Blaine really wanted to watch Kurt's face as he fell apart in his mouth – in anyone's mouth – for the first time. He moved his thigh, rubbing against Kurt's hard dick, impatient now.

"Oh, oh Blaine," Kurt moaned louder, sounding breathless and overwhelmed. "I can't."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up. Already? Blaine hadn't even touched him properly yet. He moved to rectify if now, smoothing his palm down Kurt's stomach and over his jean-clad erection. His own cock twitched, hard against the zipper, in reaction to the firm flesh as he slowly stroked it.

"Then don't," he whispered, a warm breath seductive against Kurt's ear. "Don't hold back. You can come whenever you want. We have all night."

Kurt's hips bucked under his hand, his cock pressing into his grip, and for a moment Blaine was sure he would come right then. The breathless whimper sent another wave of heat through his belly. God, Kurt looked gorgeous like that, flushed and sweaty, with his kiss-swollen lips perfectly pink and parted around little moans. But then Kurt opened his eyes and grabbed Blaine's wrist, moving it away from his crotch.

"No, I can't do this."

Blaine frowned, stunned. "You don't like it?"

Kurt snorted. "Oh, I think we can both feel how much I like it."

"Then why? Are you afraid?" Blaine asked. "Don't be. I know what I'm doing, I'll make this so good for you, I swear." They couldn't stop now. But Blaine kept his hands away, even if he didn't move the rest of his body off Kurt.

Until Kurt gently pushed him off and sat up. He was quickly regaining control, it seemed.

"I'm not afraid," he said and touched Blaine's cheek. "I'm sure you're a very talented lover. I've heard tales about how talented you are, in fact. I'm sure you wouldn't hurt me. But I can't. I just–" He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I just remembered something my dad told me once."

His _dad_? Blaine wanted to roll his eyes and ask if he often thought about his dad in these situations, but he held it back. It was just his disgruntled dick making him, well, a dick.

"And what was that?" he asked instead.

"'Don't go throwing yourself around like you don't matter. Because you matter.'" Kurt looked up at him, his clear, blue-green eyes earnest. "I do matter. And _this_ matters, my first time being intimate with someone, and I just realized I _want_ this to matter. I'm just a silly romantic, Blaine. No matter what my libido does around you, I think I would regret it one day, not waiting for someone I loved to share this with him."

Blaine scoffed just a little.

Kurt smiled. "You think it's silly."

Blaine sat up, wincing at the constriction of his pants. "I respect your opinion," he said. "But it's just sex. Why deny yourself pleasure while you wait for some knight in shining armor? How do you know it won't be years until he turns up?" He unconsciously repeated the very same words that Sebastian had used to wipe out Blaine's own hesitation less than three years ago. Then he tried to soften it when he saw Kurt's face fall slightly. "I mean, with your looks, I'm sure there are already guys lining up to date you. But, you know, if you want real love–"

Kurt smiled. "I'll take my chances. But thank you, Blaine. I thoroughly enjoyed what we did. You were my first real kiss, remember?" He leaned in and pressed one last soft kiss to Blaine's lips before withdrawing and standing up.

Blaine was missing the warmth of his body already. "It was my pleasure," he said, smiling pleasantly despite his slight annoyance. All wound up like this, he would have to book some serious time with his vibrator tonight.

How was it that Kurt always took off too early and left him reeling? Blaine would have lost interest in any other man long ago. What was it about this guy?

He watched from the bed as Kurt pulled on his boots and let himself out. Then, with no hesitation, he opened the bedside drawer and took out a large pink toy, his other hand already fumbling with the button of his pants.

There was no use wasting a good evening. And there was no question who would be on his mind tonight.


End file.
